


The Irresistible Barry Allen

by Green_Sphynx



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barry Allen Whump, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Choking, Gags, Gang Rape, Homophobic Language, M/M, Multi, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Public Sex, Selfcest, Size Difference, Size Kink, Somnophilia, Stabbing, Watersports, Whump, am I just making up villains by now - no I'm not, throatfucking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-05-02 06:38:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 16
Words: 20,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14538831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Green_Sphynx/pseuds/Green_Sphynx
Summary: What if there was one more change to Barry Allen's physiology due to the particle accelerator? What if his pheromones made him completely irresistible, and every person to ever overpower him just couldn't possibly keep their hands off him?Each chapter will rework a scene from an episode and be spoiler free for everything after that episode. Starting at Ep1 and building from there chronologically. Tags will be added as I go.





	1. S1E1 Harrison Wells, Caitlin Snow, Cisco Ramon

**Author's Note:**

> When I was watching the Flash I noticed pretty early on that Barry Allen is really good at getting beaten up. He is _really_ good at the whole whump thing. But what drew me to the series was the relative innocence, and that same innocence persuaded me about halfway the second season that I needed to write a rape scene for every time he gets himself overwhelmed or overpowered. Which is. About half of the episodes. Seriously, this guy is good at getting his arse handed to him.
> 
> I am rewatching the series slowly with a friend, episode by episode, so I can write a rape scene into each episode that has him overpowered without spoilering the rest of the series. Every time I get to rewacth an episode, there will be a new 'chapter'; a new drabble that rewrites one of the scenes from the episode into filthy, whumpy rape with whichever villain or friend got his hands on Barry that time. There is not going to be a happy consensual smut in here, nor a plot. The plot is the series itself, this is just my dirty fingers all over it.
> 
> My mission is to make each and every drabble spoiler free. The chapter title will list the pairing(s) (always on Barry) and the episode it is from, and should not contain spoilers for anything after that episode. If you have only seen the series up to episode 3, you can safely read my drabbles up to the chapter listed as S1E3, but not after.  
> If at any point I accidentally spoiler anything from later in the series, please _please_ let me know and I'll hurry to fix it.
> 
> I am not familiar with the comics (yet) and do not intend to let them influence this collection here. I try not to spoiler anyone, and I hope you will do me the same courtesy in the comments. Try not to spoil my readers or me, please.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry is in a coma in the middle of S.T.A.R. Labs for months.  
> As scientists, the remaining people of S.T.A.R. Labs have no choice but to perform every single test on their patient they can think of, for his own safety.

"Uh, Caitlin? The machines are giving some pretty weird readings on Barry here right now, maybe you should have a look."

Even with Dr. Snow still on her way to the Cortex to check on her patient, Cisco realised pretty soon what the odd readings were about. He didn't have to know what each graph was reading specifically to see what was going on, once the man in coma started to squirm ever so slightly, his breathing growing heavier and… _huskier_.

It didn't take a doctor to see the tent growing in the sheets over his crotch.

"Man, this guy has got to be kidding me."

Cisco slowly stood from his chair, approaching the bed with Barry Allen prone on it, sensors attached all over him to measure his heart rate, blood pressure and various hormone levels. One of the hormonal readings was the one peaking, but the ones on his heart were steadily rising as well.

The man looked… helpless, laid out on that bed, in a coma, and now clearly sporting a boner his pubescent memories may have been proud of. Cisco already regretted calling Caitlin up. He should just have given the poor guy a hand, let him keep at least a little of his dignity.

But that was too late now, with Caitlin rushing in and Dr. Harrison Wells right behind her.

"What's going on, Cisco?"

She rushed to her patient's side - his side that Cisco apparently reached in his musings without realising. He quickly turned away, face flushing and clearing his throat.

"He's hard."

"He's what?" Caitlin scoffed in something between confusion and disbelief, until she figured out the readings.

Dr. Wells didn't bother looking at the graphs. He was looking thoughtfully at the tent in the sheets instead, as he slowly repeated Cisco's words. "He is hard. In a state of physical arousal. He may be dreaming."

"Coma patients don't typically have wet dreams, Dr. Wells." Caitlin looked concerned, rather than embarrassed. Cisco should take a leaf from her book there.

"Mr. Allen is not a typical coma patient." Dr. Wells wheeled himself up the the bed and Cisco backed away to give him space. But he had not expected the older man to simply grab the sheets and pull them off, baring their patient's body to the air.

Lucky thing, Barry was given some loose pants by Caitlin after his last clean-up.

Unlucky thing, his erection had easily escaped the loose elastic of the waistband, the head of it now peeking out where it lay on his stomach.

Now Cisco never thought of himself as a gay man before, but this… this was something else. He couldn't look away.

The flushed cockhead with the slight moistness at the tip, all but quivering against the soft skin of Barry's - their _patient's!_ \- belly… it made Cisco want to reach out and touch. It made him want to taste.

The musky smell was overwhelming, and he was standing a royal two steps away from the bed. It made him salivate, and once more he noticed how _helpless_ the man was right now, laying there at their mercy. Cock half on display as the rest of his body was slowly starting to flush with his arousal.

He really wished he had just given him a hand and kept it quiet now. With Dr. Wells and Caitlin here, he couldn't really do that anymore.

Cisco was drawn from his reverie by Caitlin violently shaking her head, breaking from her own frozen stance where she'd been staring at the very same thing. Clearly Cisco wasn't the only one thinking it - even Wells was now clearing his throat and pointedly looking over at the graphs as if to deny he had been staring.

"We should do some tests, make sure he remains stable. And test the air for just _how much_ of these pheromones he's releasing."

"I know right?" Cisco laughed nervously, scooting away to get some materials. He could take care of the air tests, and getting away from their patient right now seemed an excellent idea. Caitlin was bright red and nodding furiously, resolutely turning her back on their exposed patient to go through the readings on the screen.

 

Considering that was what he left behind when he hopped down to his workshop, Cisco had certainly not expected the sight that met him only a few minutes later when he re-entered the cortex.

"Oh my- _what_ are you doing!?"

Caitlin at least looked up with guilt all over her face, despite her hand still steady where it held the glass bowl on Barry Allen's belly, catching the dripping precum.

Dr. Wells made no effort to look like anything was out of place, simply proceeding with his careful ministrations to the patient's cock. With a latex glove - as if that made it professional to molest your patient - slowly pumping the flushed, hard flesh.

"Don't worry, Cisco. We are just taking a sample."

"A sample? What do you need his spunk for?"

"The same we need samples of everything else for." Dr. Wells gave him a pointed look and Cisco swallowed any rebuttal he might have had. Dr. Wells was right; this was in the guy's best interest.

Plus, it was hard to judge when his own fingers were itching to touch.

He didn't have to wait for that for much longer. Not when he approached with such a hungry look, and Harrison totally looked over his shoulder to catch him doing it.

An unused latex glove was pressed up against him by Dr. Wells' free hand.

"We could use your help, Cisco. Do you know how to anally stimulate a man?"

Cisco spluttered in surprise, his ears burning at the question. "What? No! What makes you think I do that?!"

"Very well. Then take over this job here." Dr. Wells released the hard cock he'd been stroking, gesturing for Cisco to continue his job. He hitched up one of their patient's legs with his clean hand instead, holding his hand out for Caitlin to squirt a clear dollop of medical lube on his gloved fingers.

Cisco was still fumbling with his own glove when Dr. Wells slowly circled his lubed fingers against Barry Allen's asshole, rubbing the clear lube around the rim with meticulous care.

Cisco couldn't believe he was doing it. But this was for science, and both Dr. Wells and Caitlin seemed entirely agreed that this was a necessary test. Who was he to complain or stop them? It was for their patient's safety, as well as their increased knowledge of the effects of the particle explosion.

He grabbed hold of the hard cock, only to feel it jump in his hand. He yelped in surprise, laughing nervously when his colleagues gave him a _look_ for that.

"Just startled me. He hasn't moved much before."

"He's in a coma, Mr. Ramon, What were you expecting."

_Certainly not to have a hand all over his dick while his boss was fingering the guy's asshole and their doctor catching all the precum, he wasn't._

"Just keep it steady, so we can catch as much semen as we can." Dr. Wells instructed calmly, pressing his finger deeper with methodical little thrusts. "And after that, we can test the released pheromones on what makes him so irresistible right now."

"Y-yeah, good plan." Cisco swallowed heavily, slowly stroking the softly pulsing cock in his hand.

Because 'irresistible' was most certainly on point here. And Cisco doubted this was going to be the last time they were going to lay hands on Barry Allen.


	2. S1E2 Danton 'Multiplex' Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry faces off the gunmen he's after for the first time, after flashing Joe to safety.  
> It does not go well.

The real moment of surprise was when the gunman somehow split himself twice, resulting in three exact copies of him.

Barry should not have let himself be surprised by two more emerging from the original when he punched him just a little too hard.

One moment he had taken out two out of three, the next he was suddenly outnumbered once more and now five to one. This wasn't looking pretty. At all.

Barry did a valiant attempt at still beating the guy - guys? - but they had the advantage now. He didn't even have to be strong to punch Barry into submission, considering he had ten fists and ten feet to work with. Barry may be fast, but he was still only one man, and he could not stand against five men trying to punch and kick him into a paste.

He should count himself lucky that they didn't actually try to break any bones, just hit and kicked him black and blue before two of them grabbed him and threw him against a stack of barrels. Barry groaned as he tried to sit upright, trying to gather his wits for whatever was to come next. Probably a swift escape.

Or not, when four hands grabbed the legs of his suit to tear down.

Cisco's work was good, but not good enough to keep so many hands from ripping the fabric off of Barry's hips when they really wanted to. It ripped at the seams eventually, and they worked the suit open far enough to reach skin - to reach Barry's crotch and his arse.

"H-hey! What are you-"

Barry didn't get much time to protest, not with a multitude of hands grabbing him and flipping him over to press him face first against the barrels. His back bent down in a very unfortunate angle until his hips were lifted up. He was thankful for not getting his back broken for about a tenth of a second before the fabric of his suit was torn aside to properly expose his arse to the multitude of a single gunman behind him.

"I don't know who you are," the man behind him growled, and Barry cried out when a dry, canvas-gloved finger was forced into his arse, "but you are getting on my nerves. I'm just here to kill Simon Stagg, and _nothing_ will stand in my way."

That didn't really explain the hard thrusting of the gloved finger in Barry's rather sensitive hole, which had not seen such action for a very long time now. The glove ripped and tore at the tender insides, and the feeling of blood both slicked and burned with the intrusion.

"St-stop!"

Barry's shouted pleading went unheeded.

The finger pulled out quickly, and Barry would've been relieved if he didn't know what came next. Because 'next' was't going to have any lube either, and blood made an extremely poor lubricant.

He all but screamed when he was penetrated by a cock, the gunman bottoming out with one hard, mean thrust. He might as well have covered his dick in sandpaper, for how it felt on Barry's insides. He severely doubted it could feel much better for his rapist, but the guy didn't let up.

Probably to look tough.

Maybe later, tomorrow, Barry would be able to take comfort in the thought of his rapist suffering rug burn of his privates from this meeting.

Or so was his initial thought, his only attempt to cling at sanity while he was harshly raped against a stack of barrels. Joe was so close, but locked out by Barry, unable to save him. _He was the one to lock Joe out before coming back to take this villain on_. He hated himself so much right now, but not as much as he hated the guy raping him dry.

The guy who climaxed inside of him after a torturous few minutes of Barry struggling against at least six hands holding him down, if not more.

Considering it was really only one guy who multiplied doing this to them, he had somehow expected this to be the end.

He never hated being wrong quite as much as he did now.

The next cock thrusting into him went in a little smoother. With one load of semen in his arse, there was at least a little more lubrication than just his blood. Not enough to make it anywhere near pleasant - disregarding the fact that he was torn and bleeding - but not as bad as the first one.

The third one… a little bit better as well.

Barry was sobbing in pain, nails bloody as he scratched against the barrels for leverage by the time number five - the last one, if the man hadn't sprouted more clones since the last time Barry was able to look - got his turn. His arse was properly slicked up now, and although the torn damage there was still hurting like hell, it was probably nicely perfect for this villain to penetrate him by now.

The bastard had used his own clones to lube Barry up and give him a nice fuck, sobbing brokenly beneath him.

Barry's vision was black at the edges - he was close to fainting, just like he had been way more than he liked recently - and the noises of the man fucking him made him nauseous. He wanted nothing more than to puke right now, but he couldn't find the strength. He could move that way right now.

He could only sit there on his knees, clinging to the barrels as a life line, letting this guy fuck his arse while the semen of his clones squelched and spilt from his hole.

Nothing Barry could do.

 

"You will not get in my way again." The man told him, after he was done.

Barry heard him zip up his pants behind him as he sat there on his knees, quietly crying against the barrels.

He was left alone like that. It took him a long time, maybe hours, to finally pull himself together and push himself upright, carefully pulling the scraps of his suit around him. Cisco was going to complain about the damage for sure.

Cisco couldn't find out. Nor Caitlin, nor Dr. Wells. He was going to show him the bruises and bleeding on his face and chest, nothing more.

Barry rubbed his tears away roughly, sniffling one last time before inhaling sharply.

 

He would catch this guy before he could murder Simon Stagg. This man would not go free.


	3. S1E3 Kyle 'Mist' Nimbus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry sped to the scene where their gas loving metahuman had just killed someone without second thought. It was his duty to catch him, after all.  
> He should really have thought through his plan of attack first, though.

The first punch was both right on spot and a grand miss.

Barry needed a moment to process that. Even after figuring out their metahuman was probably turning himself into gas, he was not ready for seeing the guy do exactly that, turning to gas around Barry's fist.

The madman was grinning, solidifying immediately as Barry pulled his hand back. Smirking like he knew he had Barry now, even if he hadn't even seen what Barry could do. Barry could still have him-

-or maybe not.

The guy placed two well aimed punches - one in the face, one to knock the breath out of Barry. Barry tried to swing at him again, but it had the same result as before. As would every swing he tried, probably.

Barry found that he had absolutely no clue how to take this man on.

The man had him covered just fine though.

He stepped up close to Barry, one hand lifting and turning into the sickly green gas as it forced its way into Barry's mouth, down his throat. The other hand took a firm hold of Barry's waist, pulling him up against an infuriatingly solid body. Barry wheezed, choked, hands scrabbling for a hold on the man's wrist at his mouth - there was no wrist, just gas, choking him, deep in his lungs - and for a moment the other hand didn't exist. The other hand that squeezed Barry's arse firmly, to size him up.

Barry was already dizzy from the lack of air when he was spun around and pressed against the wall. He kept wheezing and coughing desperately rather than minding what the criminal was doing. There was nothing he could do, only choke and hope he wouldn't die.

"Fancy suit you're wearing there," the man drawled into Barry's ear. He might as well have been speaking Chinese right now, for Barry didn't get a thing from it. "I don't think it's air-tight, is it?"

Even that didn't quite register. What did register was the slowly forming pressure at his backside - _in_ his backside.

His suit would filter the poisonous gas out, but his assaulter was a patient one. He could bypass the fabric of the suit slowly, so slowly, before solidifying inside the suit again.

Before solidifying in between Barry's arse cheeks, slowly pressing them apart as he brought his cock back to a solid and hard state in there.

Barry might have begged under different circumstances. He might have struggled the intrusion of a hard cock that pressed into him torturously slow. As it was, he was far more pre-occupied with sucking in the minimum amount of oxygen his body would be able to survive on - the maximum that was allowed past the gaseous hand stuck all the way down his throat.

He felt light-headed and his vision was blackening at the edges, but the man wasn't killing him. He was keeping him right on the edge, deprived of air and slowly fucked.

Slowly- too slow.

Not that Barry wanted a faster fucking, but he wanted _out_. He needed to get away. And he doubted the gas was going to retreat from his lungs before the man was done with his little dirty fantasy of raping Barry with a gaseous dick.

Would Barry need the gas to retreat though? Could he run like this? Could he run on practically no oxygen at all?

No, there was no way. He'd collapse before he was outside. He would just have to hope the guy was a quick shot when it came down to fucking an unprepared arsehole.

Barry wasn't as tight as he should be, with the recent trouble with the Multiplex guy, but he was certainly going to be tight enough to give a man a good squeeze around his dick. If the man would just finish pressing inside, he would-

_If the man would just finish pressing inside!!_

Barry sobbed, choking still, cursing himself mentally for wasting what little air he had on crying. The guy was taking forever to penetrate, needing to lead all those molecules around and into Barry's suit, apparently one by one. Gas was always a damn fleeting element refusing to be directed properly, and this guy couldn't have an easy time aiming with such precision.

So he was just taking forever, while Barry's face burned from the intensity of it all, his lungs feeling like they were being crushed in an iron fist.

He wouldn't hold out. He couldn't hold out like this. There was no way he would last until the man was done. Assuming the man would even let him live - it was this close until Barry was going to pass out, and then he would be even more helpless in the hands of this madman.

"Ohh you're _hot_ …"

The wheeze Barry let out at the grunt probably sounded the same as all before, but it was supposed to show his pure disgust at the words. At the wet hot breath against his ear and the guttural wheezy sound of the man's voice. It was disgusting, even more disgusting than the taste of his gaseous hand on Barry's tongue and the press of his cock inside his arse.

He hated it.

And right as the man finally bottomed out, there was a deep pleasured moan at the same time as the gas was pulled back from Barry's throat ever so slightly.

Not enough for him to breathe properly.

Hopefully enough for him to make it to S.T.A.R. Labs.

Dr. Wells and Cisco had been pattering on worriedly in his ear piece so he knew they would be there.

The criminal wouldn't know what hit him.

Barry flashed away, the cock in his arse suddenly going gaseous again as it was ripped away from the main body. The hand in his lungs remained, keeping him from breathing, once more making his vision darken as he streaked towards S.T.A.R. Labs.

He only barely made it there, crashing against the console in the cortex, begging for help because _he couldn't breathe._

_He couldn't breathe._

He only finally got to pass out at the agony of Caitlin's needle penetrating his chest, his lung, to extract the poison gas.


	4. S1E4 Leonard 'Captain Cold' Snart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is something particularly cruel about Snart not just being a bastard roughly raping Barry, but actually making it sort of good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this and I want to post it, but I'm too beat to get any proofreading in anymore. I'll be back later to filter out the typos and shit.

As soon as Barry managed to zip the last of the people from the train to safety, he collapsed.

He had never run this fast and this much yet, forced to navigate a train that was halfway flying while trying to get everyone out before they got hurt. And he _did_ get everyone out, but now he was entirely out of breath, his muscles protesting the harsh treatment.

Now if that was the end of it, Barry would've been content. Sure, he still had a criminal to catch, but he just saved a lot of lives and he should consider his tactics before going after Snart again-

Or so he thought, right before he got hit with a blast from the cold gun.

Barry cried out, rolling over quickly but immediately after unable to struggle as he was frozen to the ground where he lay. He could still not quite catch his breath, but now his whole torso was in burning numb agony from being frozen with a beam meant to bring him to absolute zero.

"Pretty fast, kid." Snart approached him, cocksure, gun aimed. "But not fast enough."

Barry couldn't believe this was happening. The guy had a gun, nothing more, and was overpowering him as easily as the Mist before, or Multiplex with all his copies. This man was not a metahuman, and here he was, having Barry at his mercy.

Snart crouched before him, without lowering the cold gun.

"Thank you."

Barry frowned. "For what?" He was panting, heaving against the ice on him, sounding too defeated but not backing out.

"You forced me to up my game." The look on Snart's face was thoughtful. For now. Even with the goggles on, Barry could see it, see him think about what he wanted to do with Barry now. "Not only with this gun, but with how I think about a job. It's been educational."

A smile spread on the man's face, and Barry felt the dread curdling his stomach.

"I do like your suit…. _Scarlet_."

Was this the right time to be offended about being nicknamed a girl's name? Probably not, not while Snart had such a predatory look in his eyes that Barry was starting to know so well lately.

"Best not ruin it. Take it off."

"Take yourself off," Barry countered lamely. He may be at Snart's mercy, he wasn't going to follow orders.

"Now, now, Scarlet. You kiss your mother with that mouth?"

Barry gritted his teeth, ready to start a tirade on _no_ he _wasn't_. Ready to rip Snart another one for bringing up his mother.

He was already reaching up when the criminal went ahead and stopped waiting for Barry's obedience, pulling him sharply by the ankle to make him crash back down flat again and letting his free hand roam to search for a zipper.

"Stop," Barry gritted out, weakly batting at Snart's hand. Every movement hurt, and it was hard to find where Snart was touching him when he was all numb from the cold. He didn't really notice Snart had found the way to open his suit and was pulling it off until the cold gun was finally placed down, giving the criminal both hands to lift Barry and pull the suit out from underneath him.

Barry couldn't feel a thing, and that made him feel all the more violated right now.

So was it luck that Snart had only really hit his torso with the cold gun? When gloved hands smoothed over his now bare arse, he felt it just fine, even if everything else had been numb so far.

"I do like what I see," Snart drawled, kneading Barry's arse cheeks leisurely. "I wonder why that is. You have yourself some super human seduction skills on top of your speed, Scarlet?"

Now that shouldn't make half as much sense, and Barry's eyes widened in shock and realisation. He had been assaulted exactly once in his life before the particle accelerator, but now he was already suffering the third villain putting his hands all over him. It didn't make sense - unless it did. He would have to ask Dr. Wells about it - _after_ escaping Snart.

-while stark naked and half frozen on the ground next to a train wreck.

"Maybe I do," he taunted, weakly. He tried to sound more confident, but it wasn't easy while his arse was still receiving a long a thorough massage. "In any case, you're falling for it."

"Bluffing isn't really your thing, is it kid?"

His arse was only released for Snart to take off his gloves - thank god for that - and then gripped the same way, lifted up to let Snart kneel between Barry's legs. He scooted forward enough that Barry's arse would be resting on his lap, if he'd lower him enough. Which he didn't. Snart was more preoccupied with pressing a finger from each hand against Barry's hole, prodding at the rim experimentally.

"Tight and clenching, just how I like it." And the most infuriating part was how Snart could drawl that in a way that made it sound like your regular dirty talk, as if this was consensual. Barry's dick was fooled by it too, slowly starting to engorge in reaction.

Snart was smirking like the cat who got the canary, reaching in a pocket for a small tube and screwing it open in one hand, squeezing something thick in his palm.

"You carry around lube?" Barry squawked. Even if he was a fool to complain, because Snart would be the first so considerate.

"It's a machinery grease, actually."

_Fuck Snart and everything else_ . Barry was going to be scrubbing the inside of his arsehole to get that out for  _weeks_ .

Snart wasn't half concerned, rubbing a fair dollop of the thick grease against Barry's hole and pushing it in with a thumb. Barry couldn't help gasping, his hips twitching up at the intrusion. Pain shot through his belly at the movement and his gasp turned to a pained groan, making Snart tut at him mockingly.

"Better stay still, Scarlet. I am actually trying not to hurt you."

"You are going to rape me, but you don't want to hurt me?" Barry spat angrily, wheezing at the pain it caused. "What sort of hypocrisy is that?"

"I thought you'd appreciate it." All smugness and sexy voice, and two fingers, one from each hand, penetrating Barry's arse deeply. He groaned and squirmed against intrusion and pain alike, feeling the finger pull away from each other to force a stretch that Barry's hole sure wasn't able to accommodate yet.

"S-Snart!"

"Already moaning my name so prettily. Why don't you tell me yours too?"

Barry glowered at the criminal for the trouble. Snart's name was a curse on his tongue, not a moan, and he bloody well know it. The cocksure grin wasn't denying that, but Snart seemed to have a grand time goading Barry.

"No name? Pity. I'll have to keep calling you Scarlet then."

Barry wanted to protest, wanted to struggle, but Snart pulled his fingers out and scooted forward under Barry, letting him rest on his lap for just a moment so he could open his own pants.

The curve of Barry's back was hurting because of the freezing numbness, not because of the position itself. Had this been any other situation, he might have liked it. He might have been properly hard, instead of his dick laying there on his belly only a little bigger than flaccid. The way his skin had blackened from the cold was plenty turn-off as well, luckily.

Unlike the slow but steady press of a large cock into his hole, sliding smoother than dry but harder than with proper lube, thanks to the thick grease.

Barry was panting and gasping, trying to convince himself that all his moans were purely from the pain.

"That's it, Scarlet," Snart muttered, clearly keeping himself from moaning as well. "Take that nice and good."

Barry was fairly sure he was supposed to be struggling and trying to get away, or in the very least tell the guy to fuck the hell off. He wasn't entirely sure why he wasn't. Maybe because he was feeling so full, and despite the pain all over his torso, Snart had actually made the penetration almost painless. And it had been a while since Barry felt _this full_.

He wished he could see the size of Snart's dick now - a thought he tried to fight down immediately. He wasn't here for the sex. He was getting raped by a villain next to a train wreck, and no way to contact his team for help right now.

Such thoughts were fleeting, leaving immediately as Snart pulled back to give a nice deep thrust, knocking a moan from Barry's lips that he sure didn't mean to.

"That's it," Snart repeated, purring lowly.

This was just cruelty. Snart set a slow but deep pace, pulling almost all the way out for a deep thrust every time. It made Barry see stars, and not just because he was down from getting hit with the cold gun.

His traitorous dick was responding as well, not bothered with Barry's reservations like his brain was. As far as his body concerned, this was the best fucking he got since college.

"P-please…"

Barry didn't mean to beg. He wasn't even sure what he was begging for. He just knew that Snart had a lot of patience, fucking him slow and languid with his breath only speeding a bit, deepening just slightly. As if this wasn't as arousing to him as it was to Barry - and Barry was going to deny he thought this arousing at all until the end of time.

Despite appearances, Snart did eventually seem to hit an end. It felt like hours had passed by the time he sped up, his breathing growing properly deep now as he grunted, fingers tightening on Barry's arse. He slammed in harder and deeper, making Barry whimper at the pain it caused to his frozen body. At least the pain made him lose his erection again, and he could deny that better.

He could deny it, even if he'd always know and remember this. He'd never forget the way Snart stilled, hunching over him with a deep grunt when he released inside of Barry arse.

He stayed still like that for another minute or so, nothing around them but their heavy breathing, and the sounds of sirens in the distance where the people Barry had saved were being picked up from the grass by police and ambulance personnel. Far away.

Snart pulled out and away slowly, and Barry felt immediately too empty. It was a loss, even if he should be happy about it.

He wasn't. Barry wasn't happy at all.

Snart calmly stood up, arranging his spent dick back inside his pants and then slowly putting his gloves on. He picked up the cold gun, and with an almost wistful sigh he cocked it to aim at Barry again, naked and frozen on the ground beneath him.

"What a waste," Snart muttered. Barry wanted to beg, but his last shred of pride kept him from doing so. Snart might as well shoot him.

At least until a third voice sounded from ahead, confident and followed by the same sound as the cold gun powering up. "Drop it."

Barry dropped back in relief, unable to do anything more. He would leave this to Cisco now, and hope he'd fare better than Barry.

It was in his friends' hands now.


	5. S1E6 Tony 'Girder' Woodward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A man made of metal can do some serious damage, especially in front of Iris

"Barry, stop. That punch is not going to work, you can't beat him. Remember what happened last time you got beaten; remember what Snart said to you."

_And the two times before Snart._ Luckily Caitlin didn't know about those, or at least not yet, so she could not use that to argue for Barry to stop.

Not that it would make a difference. Tony had Iris, and no amount of villains and how they'd touched Barry before were going to stop him from saving her now.

And Barry was nothing if not stubborn.

A stubborn fool who was going to see himself destroyed before anyone would hurt Iris.

And for a moment, it looked like he was actually going to win this. He got Iris to a safer distance and Tony didn't seem to be able to lay a hand on him. Barry was too fast for him.

At least until he made a mistake, and Tony was the one with the superior brawling experience, knowing how to turn the smallest mistake back around on Barry.

Before he well knew it, he was panting on the floor, his ribs feeling bruised where the flagpole had dug into him when Tony used it to crash him against the walls. Iris shouted for him behind - for her hero, her mysterious would-be rescuer - but that only spurred Tony on.

"You're like a cockroach." Tony balled beat a fist into his palm threateningly. "I beat you again and again and you keep coming. Guess I should teach you a real lesson this time."

_It was really too much to hope that if Tony had beaten him twice without getting sexual, Barry could get away the same way a third time._

Barry did not get the time to catch his breath, to feel if his ribs were still intact. He was flipped over by hands stronger than any he'd felt before, the short moment he was gripped on an arm and waist already strong and tight enough to bruise, like he was pinched with rock rather than hands.

His suit was ripped open with one sharp pull, fabric tearing and cutting into his skin as Tony exposed his rear, then pulled his arse up so he was forced on his knees, face still on the dirty school floor.

"This fag isn't a hero, Iris," Tony goaded, and Barry could hear her gasp from afar before he registered the movement of Tony behind him. "He's just jealous of what I was going to offer _you_."

The penetration came in one harsh thrust, and in the form of steel.

Barry _screamed_.

Objectively, he might have noted Tony wasn't half as well endowed as Snart, or even Nimbus or Black before. But unlike them before, Tony could turn himself to completely unforgiving metal, and it felt more like he was being stabbed than penetrated by someone's dick. And unlike before, this time Iris was right there.

Iris was shouting at Tony to stop, but the guy had never been the type to listen. He simply started to fuck Barry hard and fast, and Barry could feel every thrust rip into his flesh, the heat of blood coating the insides of his cheeks and the tearing pain inside. He had to press his face hard to the floor to keep Iris from seeing how the pain tore him up, how the feeling of getting raped _again -_ and now in front of her _-_ was bringing tears to his eyes. It took all of his willpower to gesture sharply at Iris to stay put, not come closer and try do something stupid.

Because she would, just like Barry did himself. And as terrible as it was to be raped by Tony Woodward in front of Iris, he would never forgive himself if Tony would turn on Iris next.

Iris screams were ringing in his ears - or were those his own? His fingers were scrabbling at the floor helplessly, his throat hurting - but _it was Iris screaming, Iris watching_ \- and his eyes burning. Not as much as his ribs, or worse, _so much worse where Tony was stabbing, thrusting, pounding._

The only consolation was that it didn't feel like getting raped, with the unforgiving steel stabbing him in the arse. If he could've controlled his voice under the harsh onslaught that forced groans and screams out of him on every thrusts, he wouldn't have missed the chance to make a slight about Tony's dick being so small. No doubt it would be less like a repeated stabbing and more like a rape, if he'd been bigger.

Or so he tried to tell himself. _Tried_ being the key word, because his every attempt at thinking was overwhelmed by a stab-thrust and _Iris, oh god Iris._

Tony's grip was too hard to pull himself free - Barry was fairly sure his hip bones were cracking in the steel grip, considering how the pain was turning from bruising to _much worse_ now - so he was forced to wait until Tony was ready. Forced to remain face down on the floor, hips hiked up to a convenient height for Tony to pound down into him, like an animal had mounted Barry from behind, his tears and saliva making his face slip on the dirty floor.

Luckily Tony lasted just as long as your regular animal would've, and he pulled out and released his grip on Barry before finishing. Barry's tried to choke down sobs as he heard the heavy pants of Tony behind him - _Iris was watching, Iris was -_ followed by some whimpered moans and the hot splatter of cum over Barry's bruised and bloody backside.

"T-there," Tony grunted, sounding awfully smug. "Know your place, fag."

_Ironic, considering Barry never asked for this, and Tony was the one doing a guy up the arse._

At least he was released now. At least he had a chance to turn this back around now.

Barry staggered while getting up, but even then he had speed on his side. It was hard to run bleeding, bruised and with so many bones broken or at least heavily bruised, but he could do this.

For Iris.

Iris, who had watched this all.

Barry squeezed his eyes shut so hard he saw stars behind his eyelids and sprinted out of the school to make distance.

Miles away. Five point three miles away.

_Barry was nothing if not stubborn._

_A stubborn fool who was going to see himself destroyed before anyone would hurt Iris._


	6. S1E7 Farooq 'Blackout' Gibran

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry is already losing his confidence after getting assaulted so many times. Next he will lose are his powers.

"That's weird… someone just used his ID to enter the substation."

Barry knew what he had to do.

Dr. Wells came to the same conclusion, considering he turned to Barry the exact same moment. "Before you go, Barry, we need to talk about what's going on. I know you don't want to talk about it, I understand, but you can't run off after another dangerous metahuman before we figure this out."

Barry was ready to argue, but Caitlin came to his rescue unwittingly.

"The Petersburg grid is experiencing a power drain right now."

"Barry be-"

Barry was out before Dr. Wells could finish his sentence.

He wasn't going to listen to him preach, not about this. It was bad enough this kept happening, and Barry was not ready to talk about it- or even acknowledge it, for that matter.

He was not ready to admit that with superpowers came everyone wanting to rape him.

It was hard enough to keep the people at Star Labs to shut up about it. He was beyond grateful they at least didn't tell anyone else, so Joe was still blissfully unaware and Iris didn't know Barry was the one she wanted to prod about it. She'd been on edge ever since she'd seen the Flash get raped by Tony - claiming it was her fault and everything, despite Barry trying to convince her it wasn't. She said she should've moved and helped the Flash while Tony was distracted. Barry was immensely grateful that she didn't.

Who knows, Tony might have dropped him and moved on to raping Iris if she'd drawn his attention at that point.

But the fact remained that Iris had seen the Flash at his worst, and was aching to meet him again and check on him.

It remained that Cisco and Caitlin and Felicity had seen, and that Caitlin had figured out the same must've happened in those silent moments he had not communicated while he'd been fighting Black and Nimbus.

The Flash was not the hero he was trying to be. He was weak.

_He'd have to prove them all wrong._

The sight he found at the station was…. Frightening. So he steeled himself; he _had_ to.

"I'm pretty sure this is a restricted area."

The man stopped… whatever it was he was doing, the area going dark with the lack of free lightning bolting around the place. He turned slowly, eyes wide and dangerously mad.

No words. Barry shifted uncomfortably.

The first response of the man was to shoot lightning at Barry, but Barry was faster.

_He would always be faster. Barry was the Flash, Barry would not get caught again._

"Easy there, zappy!"

"I… have to feed…"

Well _that_ didn't sound ominous at all. This was all a rather high voltage to be sapping and still be groaning about having to feed.

Barry sped away well in time not to be hit by the next charge of electricity. As well as the next.

But as he sprinted away from another bolt, he found himself suddenly paralysed, all his hairs rising up straight as electricity crackled through and over him.

He was unable to scream, just low choked groans escaping him as his muscles gave out one by one under the onslaught. Most remained locked in place under the electricity, making it extra painful to sink down to his knees.

He was being sapped, drained from power somehow. Electrocuted; but more went out than came in.

The meta was _feeding_ off Barry.

"More of that," came the gravelly voice, right above Barry's shoulder now. "I need more."

Barry could barely feel the hand sliding over his shoulder and down his back, not physically. All he could feel was the charge changing place, the burn and the epicentre of the harsh freezing up of his muscles moving lower and down towards his arse.

_Not again._

He could smell the suit scorching under the high voltage, the sweet scent of burning flesh. He could not feel the hand physically as it pressed into his pants, just the change of the crackling of electricity as the suit no longer dampened the direct effect on his skin.

His spine arched when something - a finger - pressed into him from behind, a scream tearing from his throat. All his muscles remained locked, forcing him to fall over backwards onto the man who was pushing fingers into him, feeding electricity straight into the sensitive skin inside of him.

Barry could feel his insides throb - he was fairly sure he could feel half his intestines outlined precisely in his belly as the electricity sapped, drained, _pushed-_

The man fell back unexpectedly, and Barry was dropped to the floor. His muscles twitched helplessly, his legs burning at the unnatural angle they stayed in - although Barry couldn't tell for the world what that angle was right now. His legs might as well still be in S.T.A.R. Labs, for all he knew right now.

"Too much…" The man was panting, but it was hard to hear him over Barry's own laboured breathing. "…too much."

Dr. Wells spoke straight in Barry's ears, the comms surprisingly having survived the onslaught. "Get out of there."

Barry tried.

It was a good thing that his assaulter was staggering away himself, because Barry managed only two steps before his speed abandoned him completely, dropping him twitching and heaving for breath against the closest upright surface.

"Run, Barry."

_Failed again. Beaten and taken advantage of - again._

He came to a horrible conclusion as he tried to obey Dr. Wells' order.

"I _can't_."


	7. S1E8 Oliver 'Arrow' Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry finally snaps and lets loose his anger. This time it's his turn to lay hand on another.

This day was just going from bad to worse.

Whatever Bivolo tried on him, it hadn't worked. But did anyone believe him? No, of course not. When did anyone ever believe him unless he could prove what he said in three different ways with sufficient scientific referencing? If it was about anything he had _seen_ or what he could _feel_ , he just _had_ to be wrong. Silly Barry Allen couldn't be listened to.

Now he hadn't meant to lash out at Oliver, but seriously? He had it coming a long time. Someone needed to tell that guy to finally get his head out of his own arse, and with the day Barry was having, well… guess it had to be him now.

He _might_ have thought better of snapping at Singh, but he really couldn't take this guy's constant nagging anymore. He was done, so done - and then Joe? God have mercy, but if Joe was going to give him one more fake nice guy speech, Barry was going to punch him.

The last straw had been Eddie leaving with Iris from the precinct. They were just doing that to rub it in, to show off to Barry how happily together they were and what _he_ couldn't have no matter how long he wanted it. Iris had no other reason to come here and pick Eddie up right when Barry would see it.

By the time Oliver got there, he had lost it.

_He ran_.

He dragged Oliver down an alley before swinging the vigilante around to slide further, taking the moment to free himself from the cable he'd been wrapped up in.

Oliver was quick enough to recover, shooting another arrow at Barry.

And missed.

Barry was angry, too angry, but he still couldn't help smirking. "You missed."

"No."

_No?_ Barry had only a second to be confused about Oliver's answer before the arrow exploded behind him, the shock wave carrying him forward and flat on the ground.

_And Oliver couldn't just stop making him more angry, now could he?_

Barry climbed to his feet in rage, searching for where the Arrow had gone off to, only to be hit by another arrow.

"Two thousand milligrammes of horse tranquiliser. Should be hitting you anytime now."

Barry grunted, heaving for air. Yeah, it was hitting him alright. His legs gave out under him, his world moving topsy-turvy as the tranquiliser spread through his system.

He was not _done_ with Oliver.

With effort, he managed to grab the arrow and yank it from his shoulder. He wheezed, groaned, but bit back the pain. Bit back the nausea of the overdose, the wild movements of the world around him - and vibrated his cells at high speed, clearing his system from the drug.

Bet Oliver didn't see _that_ coming, did he?

He was on the Arrow in a flash. Oliver was taken off guard and Barry could push him to the ground somehow. It wouldn't last long, but he didn't care. In the time it would take Oliver to react, Barry could've done a bunch of things.

A bunch… and Barry knew _just_ the thing.

He shoved his hand down Oliver's pants, groping roughly at his flaccid cock. "Every time… _every single time_ they get me they do this… now it's my turn."

"Barry!" Oliver sounded appropriately bewildered, and hesitated just long enough for Barry to flip him over at super speed, planting his knee on Oliver's back to keep him on the ground while he pushed stiff leather pants down.

"I will get my due, one way or another."

He had Oliver's cheeks spread with both hands and spit on his hole for lubrication before Oliver managed to turn the tables again.

Slow as the man may move compared to Barry, he was an expert in _how_ to move. Barry didn't realise Oliver was getting free until he was already grabbed in a chokehold, Oliver turned behind him.

Oliver's pants down on his knees. What a lovely sight he must make for whoever was speeding towards them in the S.T.A.R. Labs van.

Barry cursed and struggled, but Oliver had him and a moment later he was overwhelmed by an onslaught of flashing colours, rendering him temporarily blind.

And melting his anger, letting it be replaced by confusion and then guilt.

And not all that guilt was about the havoc he'd wrought in his anger. Part of it had more to do with Oliver Queen and his pants on his knees pressed up against his back, and the fact that Barry was not going to get any fun out of this anymore.

 

_Not that he wanted to rape Oliver but… it would've been such a nice change to do it with someone of his choice._


	8. S1E9 Reverse-Flash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry finally meets the man who killed his mother, and he will not give up until he catches him.

It was easy to follow this man in yellow, this speedster who didn't belong here, _who killed his mother._ Even with the speedster wiping the floor with Barry, he had no trouble getting right back up to continue. To follow, to race, to punch. He would get this man no matter what.

The man in yellow would see justice for killing Nora Allen.

It was less easy when the man started spouting gibberish about knowing Barry, about Barry supposedly knowing _him_. About how they had been at it for a long time.

All lies. Confusing lies, muddling things up where all Barry wanted was clarity.

"It is your destiny to lose to me, Flash."

Barry froze where he'd fallen on the grass. Panting, tasting blood, wide-eyed at the last words the man in yellow spoke.

_His destiny to lose._

"Just as it was your mother's destiny to die that night."

Barry drew in a shaky breath.

He was _furious_. But he was also scared; terrified that this man was speaking the truth.

The man in yellow knew _nothing_ of Barry. He knew _nothing_ of his destiny, and he most certainly didn't have _any_ right to speak of his mother-!

….but did he?

"You will submit to me, Flash," the distorted voice growled at him. "You will acknowledge my superiority. You will be mine and you will be my perfect loser."

"W-what?" Barry didn't like how his voice broke on the question, but it didn't matter a thing in the end. The man in yellow was on top of him, pinning him down, and there was nothing Barry could do about it. Nothing he could do to stop the man from doing whatever the hell he wanted.

The man in yellow had already proven that.

So he didn't struggle initially when his pants were shoved down and one vibrating hand pulled his arse up in the air for him to sit on his knees.

_Just like Tony had. He also liked to say how Barry was made to take a beating._

Two fingers were shoved roughly into his arse, no lubrication of any sort to help him out. The fingers were vibrating like the whole body of the man, creating dry friction that _burned_.

This was enough for Barry to start a struggle, kicking his legs and trying to scrabble upright.

"Stay _down_ , Flash."

The man in yellow spoke the name as if it was leaving a nasty taste on his tongue. Barry wasn't _asking_ for him to say it.

But he did seem to catch on to Barry's true protest, leaning over to spit messily on Barry's hole, fucking his fingers in without pause.

Barry scowled, his fingers curling on the grass. _He sure regretted doing that to Oliver now_.

It worked a little bit, the movement just a tiny bit smoother with the saliva as lube, but it still gave a terrible burn. He was stretched too hard, too fast, too cruel, and the man in yellow was not about to ease up.

No, he simply spat again and pressed in another finger, driving them in deep as he abused Barry's hole.

It hurt like hell, and it wasn't getting any better when the man found the angle to hammer his vibrating fingers straight into Barry's prostate. It was too sensitive for this, too delicate under such an onslaught.

Barry doubted there was much mercy to appeal to in this man.

He still tried to struggle again, unwilling to undergo this humiliation without trying. He had enough of this already - had enough of this shit ever since becoming the Flash. And this guy was the very last one he was willing to bend over for.

So he pushed up again, knocking his elbow sharply against the side of the man's knee.

It caused the other speedster to stumble, fingers slipping out as he tried to regain his balance. Barry took his chance to slip out under him, making him lose his other balance point on Barry's back as well.

He just hadn't taken into account that trying to sprint away with his pants and underwear stuck on his knees would hinder him so much he would literally only get two steps in before the man in yellow was on top of him again.

This time he was slammed down on his back, his pants torn off him before the air could fully be knocked out of him in the landing. His wrists were pinned together over his head, the man in yellow already between his legs and pressing close.

Barry grunted in protest, trying to pull his arms away, trying to buck his hips, anything to get free again, but even if he did manage anything, the man was too fast to let it last more than the fraction of a second.

_The blurred face above Barry was terrifying._

With a move so fast Barry couldn't quite follow the man had opened his pants, pulled out his engorged cock, slicked it with another handful of spit and rammed it up Barry's arse.

Barry _screamed_ , thrashing under the vibrating man in a desperate attempt to get away from the pain.

Oh god, it _hurt so bad_ , and with the pain and the blur above him it was impossible to still see straight.

The man in yellow didn't seem to care, ploughing away into Barry's arse like he had a record to set. His speed was supernatural, practically vibrating his way into Barry and causing agony on top of humiliation.

Barry couldn't make out a face, but he could swear the man was smirking down at him.

Barry shouted himself hoarse within seconds, his voice disappearing into the empty stadium. After that it was just the sound of squelching thrusts - squelching from what? Blood? - and the ominous trill of the man's vibrations, barely hidden under Barry's pained groans and whimpers that he tried to suppress unsuccessfully.

He couldn't last like this. He was going to pass out from the pain or worse: end up crying.

_He couldn't do this. It hurt too much_ .

"Stay _down_ ," the order was repeated, and Barry sobbed.

His worst nightmare looming over him, inches from his face, while his lower body was set on fire with the worst abuse he'd had - and that considering how the past time had been since becoming the Flash.

"P-please _stop-p-_ "

"Good. Beg for me. I will not give you mercy, Flash."

Barry wanted to at least cover his face with his hands, hide his ugly sobbing from this creep over him. But his wrists were pinned down securely and the other speedster was drinking in his every weakness like a fine wine.

And it lasted, oh it lasted.

For someone going at such an insane speed, he lasted ridiculously long.

Barry felt like the inside of his arse was halfway eroded out by the time the man in yellow pulled out to lean further over him, spending messily over Barry's crotch. Flecks of semen were splattering everywhere due to the vibrating, dirtying shirt, thighs and flaccid cock alike. _Filthy, disgusting, inferior._

"Remember this, Flash."

The dark, twisted voice made Barry want to vomit.

Or maybe it was the agony in his backside and the mess all over him.

The moment the man in yellow let him go, he rolled over to vomit, regardless of what the cause was. He heaved while the man disappeared, leaving him bruised and bloody on the field, in the spotlights of an empty stadium. Fucked out and used.

Inferior.

_He would never stop until he would take this man down._


	9. S1E11 Hartley 'Pied Piper' Rathaway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry doesn't always have to suffer humiliation when his enemies get him. Sometimes he's too busy suffering something else.

"I got you with the same trick twice."

_What?_

Barry only had a moment to wonder what the trick was - no, what the result was going to be. What the trick was seemed fairly obvious now Hartley said it, because it was honestly way too easy to steal those gloves considering that's how Barry got him the first time. He would've figured it out soon if Hartley had meant to get away with the same trick again but the guy had different intentions this time.

And those intentions hit Barry like a truck.

Barry let out a surprised cry of pain when pain tore through his body.

The confusing part was where it hurt _everywhere_. No point of impact, no targeted area, just everything searing with pain. Burning, _vibrating_ -

_The frequency to break him apart_ .

Barry coughed up blood, the heat of it on his lips tipping him off how _badly_ this was going. He was stumbling to try find his footing, to stay upright, and barely saw Hartley circle him. No doubt having some nice villain speech, but Barry couldn't hear him. Barry couldn't hear anything, and everything all at once.

If anything, his ears went first, the cacophony of sounds snapping like an elastic band pulled too far, breaking off into an awful shriek that was both silence and not.

With that Barry's legs and arms gave out, dropping him on the asphalt he was spitting blood on. Wherever the solid mass touched him, the agony doubled with the friction of the frequency he was made to vibrate at against the still matter.

There was more, touch from behind, pressing and burning and killing, but it was nothing compared to the large surface of contact with the street.

_He needed to get up again._

He also needed to vomit up his organs, or so it felt.

His bladder went next.

He felt the heat spread through the front of his suit, which was the main reason he realised the sensitive tissue of his bladder had succumbed to the vibrations. The pain was as intense as everywhere else, no difference noticeable anymore.

Hartley might've made a comment, but Barry was hearing nothing but the flatline shriek of his destroyed ears. Barry might've seen Hartley's reaction if he could've opened his eyes properly with the agony tearing him apart, but even when he did manage to pry his eyes open for a moment, everything was a blur. He didn't know yet whether that was just because of the vibrating or whether his cornea were degenerating under the frequency as well.

Everything was just torture and he had no idea whether he was going to survive this.

Who could save him? The Flash sure failed on this one, and his friends were all the way in S.T.A.R. Labs, too far to reach him before the rest of his organs gave out until the damage was irreparable even to his superhuman healing.

There was no hope left, unless Hartley had mercy.

 

Hartley had no mercy.

His friends, however, turned out to be able to help him after all.

The anguish ripping through him stopped as sudden as it had started, leaving an intense burning pain behind but not the destruction of before.

He fell flat on the asphalt, panting and trying to breath through burning lungs, choking and coughing up blood. A sudden cold set in over his lower body, especially over his arse.

_Not again. Seriously, while he was dying now?_

But Hartley was not behind him. Hartley gave what looked like a pathetic cry as his gauntlets exploded in his hands - not that Barry could hear anything but the shrieking - and dropped unconscious ahead of Barry. Useless and now harmless.

Barry was cold and burning and still feeling like he wanted to vomit up his organs. Maybe shit out some of the lower ones - by the feel of hot blood running down his thighs he'd made a start at that. His thighs were otherwise freezing from cooling urine, and then on his lower back….

Barry flung back an arm clumsily, ignoring the protests of all his muscles and the feeling of his skin being made of dry leather. He brought back his glove smeared in an unmistakable white substance that had been cooling on top his of arse.

Hartley had already been done with him, and he completely missed it. Barry had no idea whether he was supposed to be grateful or angry about that.

 

He managed to draw himself up enough to draw his pants back up and close his suit again, gathering Hartley up by the time the van of S.T.A.R. Labs came racing to pick him up. He didn't protest Caitlin and Cisco ushering him into the van and down on his back on the floor.

Everything was pain, he was smelling like urine, vomit and blood, and he still could not hear and barely see.

_He could not say he liked Hartley anymore than Cisco did._


	10. S1E19 Hannibal 'Everyman' Bates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stealing the identity of Barry Allen becomes a little more when tempted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keeping in mind that the episode ends with Hannibal Bates admitting that he can't quite remember who he is himself, I refrained from referring to him as Hannibal too often here. It's probably ending up a little confusing on who is who, but the important part is that this is from the point of view from Hannibal/Everyman and NOT Barry. Even when Barry is conscious, this is not his pov, I do not switch halfway.  
> I hope you make it through without confusing them, but what else was selfcest made for eh?

He had honestly only come here to steal the kid's identity.

The cops were after him and they were getting a little too close. He already got the other one framed for murder, but if he played it right he could use this one to find out how much they knew of him, and what information he had to destroy to run free again.

Thing was… now he was tying the kid up, he really rather felt like doing a little something more than just locking him in a closet and leaving him.

Barry Allen, if he remembered correctly. He was doing awfully well tracking Hannibal.

But _he_ was Barry Allen now, and he had some time to teach this kid a lesson before using his new identity.

The kid was cute, but Hannibal had to wonder if he should shift back to one of his better endowed forms when he opened up his pants. It was bound to feel better when you're bigger, right? But he also rather liked to be Barry fucking Barry. People would be jealous of him for having this chance; it would be a waste not to take it, would it?

He was already half hard from just the idea of fucking this cute kid, so it took only a few strokes over his length to get ready for playing. He had yet to gag the original Barry, making it was an easy enough choice to grab the kid's hair and tilt his head just right for him to press his cock between his lips.

The original Barry let out a soft groan of protest at the length pressing in, choking a little as the new one pushed down to test his gag reflex.

He better not wake up now. Hannibal was sure he knocked him out good, and he didn't want the kid to wake up and bite down. It may be Barry's own cock he was pressing down the kid's throat, it was still attached to _him_ and nobody liked a biter.

He pressed his thumb in between the kid's molars just in case. One hand on the back of his current original's head to keep him in place and bend his neck in a way that would allow him to press in deep easily, one hand to keep his jaw wrenched open. Eyelids fluttered but didn't open, the choking sounds stopping as _new_ Barry pressed in to the hilt, burying his dick in the kid's tight throat.

_So tight and hot, it was perfect._

He wished again he had changed to a shape better endowed so he could feel more of that tight throat around him, but then again it was also more likely to actually choke this Barry and either suffocate him or make him wake up retching. He would have to make do with just this - _and just this was pretty damn fine already_.

He fucked between those plump limps slowly, giving the kid plenty time to breathe of his own accord in between the deep penetrations of his throat. It was getting harder and harder not to speed up and fuck his throat roughly, but for now he was savouring it.

He wondered if the original Barry liked fucking a sweet throat like this as much as he did now. He was a new and improved Barry Allen right now, after all. His raging lust for this kid - and especially that throat! - must come from him, right? He'd never done something like this before with any other person whose identity he'd copied.

And what a sight he made like this. The kid's face was turning red from the abuse of his throat, his lashes by now wetly sticking to his cheeks. He was still out, but the increasing noises and the increasing _need_ to go faster made the new one doubt his original would stay like that much longer.

He wedged his other thumb in between the jaw of the Barry below as well, shifting to a better angle to keep fucking his throat, allowing him to speed up as he was longing to. It drew more noises and renewed choking from the kid, and finally his eyes fluttered open in a hazy confusion.

_Barry_ above smirked, pressing in all the way and remaining seated for a few second with his pubes there to tickle the nose of Barry below. Until The one below choked for real, starting to cough and retch around the cock in his throat, suddenly struggling against the bonds holding him.

Teeth were biting down, but with two thumbs in place his cock was safe. He pressed his fingers hard under the jaw of the Barry below to hurt him, hopefully enough to make him stop trying to bite down.

He didn't need much more.

With the assaulted kid below him tearing up for real, face red, angry and hurt, he fucked down hard and fast for maybe a minute before he pulled out and came all over the kid's face. The kid spluttered in protest now his mouth was finally free, but new Barry wouldn't let him speak. He wouldn't give him a chance to escape or try talk himself out of it.

He grabbed the police issued baton he'd found in the house and used it to knock Barry Allen out once more. Then he ripped off a piece of duct tape and wiped his cum out of the way around the kid's mouth so it would stick properly.

"There you go, all trussed up and ready for a long nap."

The new Barry Allen patted the kid's hair, grinning while grabbing his new wallet. Time to check out his cards and learn a little more about himself.

At least he now knew he gave some amazing head.


	11. S1E22 Leonard 'Captain Cold' Snart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For once not forced, but blackmailed. Captain Cold won't let just anyone work together with his sister, so Barry needs to be convincing whether he wants to or not.

"I've deleted everything the C.C.P.D., A.R.G.U.S. and the FBI had on you and sent a virus to erase every digital record of you online." Barry nodded down at the stack of boxes in front of them. "And this is every single piece of physical evidence the police had."

"Good." Cold looked at him, face unreadable for a moment.

Until a gun powered up from beyond him and shot the stack though, covering it with the toxic gold substance that Cisco had made for Snart's sister's gun.

Barry startled, but didn't really have it in him to jump in surprise anymore. It wasn't a _real_ surprise, after all. He could've - should've - seen this coming, so he just dropped his shoulders in a weary sigh.

"I hear we're all going to be working together."

"That's right, sis. Partners." Cold gave Barry a meaningful look.

Barry really didn't want that look. He didn't want to be _partners_. He just wanted to save those lives and Snart was his only option, and that was _all_ this was.

"Well, _after_ we settle the last bit of this arrangement." This time Barry _was_ surprised, and he looked up sharply.

"What do you mean, 'the last bit'. _This_ is what we agreed on, Snart."

"So it is," Cold agreed smoothly, "But an agreement doesn't make a partnership. We still need to… sign the contract, so to speak."

"You want black on white how Captain Cold and the Flash are going to work together?" Barry scowled. Snart had to know that was not going to happen, and he was not pleased being played like this. Not now, not while it mattered.

But Snart smirked, not quite like he was going to affirm that, giving Barry a pointed once-over. "I was more thinking white on white, actually."

"White on…?" Barry blinked, confused. Lisa however laughed and gave her brother a friendly little shove.

"Take it inside, Lenny."

"Inside? We're kind of in a hurry, Snart." Barry took a step closer, but Cold was not one easily intimidated. In fact, the criminal took the opportunity to grab him by the bicep and start pulling him towards the door Lisa had exited from.

"Not _that_ much of a hurry, Scarlet. Besides, I'm not trusting you with my sister until we got this done and over with - and trust me, we _will_ need her for this little job you're planning."

"I only asked for _you_." Barry didn't really struggle despite himself, letting him be pulled inside the safehouse and through a few doors to a more private room.

"And _I'm_ saying we need her."

With one sharp push Barry found himself tumbling down on a bed.

_Fuck_ .

"Without her, this mission _will_ fail, and I'm not going to sign up for a doomed job, Scarlet." Cold's fingers were already on his suit, tugging his cowl back and zipping open the front of his suit. "You do this, we go save your little meta criminals. You don't, and I'm out."

"You _can't_ Snart, we had a deal-"

"And what's one more little thing to cement that deal to the _Flash_ , hm?"

He hated this guy. Seriously, he did.

And yet he was only scowling, not struggling, letting Cold undress him with that casual air about him like he was undressing the Flash all the time.

For that matter, Barry was acutely aware that this was the _second_ time Cold was doing this to him. Last time had been more physical force, less blackmail, but it was a second time nonetheless. That made him a first, and Barry wasn't sure what to think about that.

Nor did he know what to think about how little he was resisting this. He should not make it so easy, should be at least a little mulish about Cold tugging at his hips to lift them, letting the criminal slide his pants down and leaving him naked.

He should most certainly not be reaching out and unzipping that parka, pushing it off the man's shoulders quickly while refusing to meet his eyes.

"See? Not so hard, is it?"

Barry scoffed, ripping the buttons of Cold's shirt open just to spite him.

"Hey, I liked that shirt." It was too clear in his voice how he was suppressing a smirk, that drawl infuriating and sexy and making Barry want to punch him. "Stop pouting, Scarlet, or you might tempt me."

"Tempt you?" Barry's laugh was short and humourless. He still refused to meet Cold's eyes. And that was his mistake.

Cold straddled Barry's lap without warning, fingers entwining in his hair to pull his head back, their lips meeting just a little too hard. Just a little too clumsy, due to Barry's surprise, their teeth knocking together before Cold could pull back a little and nip Barry's lip.

Barry's head was spinning, he had no idea what to do with this - Captain Cold was _kissing_ him now?! - and was caught off guard yet again when Cold ground down hard on his crotch.

And he could not deny the way the rough friction of Cold's pants on his bare dick was making him twitch in arousal.

Barry figured it would be easier if he would just let Cold take the reins. Barry never really got a say when he was getting raped anyway, so he was no stranger to being used to a man's pleasure anymore. At least Cold was a somewhat mindful partner, so it would be relatively safe… and would keep Barry from embarrassing himself any further if he did something wrong.

But even if he was going to let Cold do what he want, he was not going to lay around like a puppet to be used. Not this time. At least he had a bit of a choice this time, and well… Cold was a good kisser. He would deny thinking this later.

Barry reached up to hook his arms around Cold's shoulders, pulling him in close while the kiss between them grew hotter by the second. Cold had no qualms about biting Barry's lips and invading his mouth with his tongue, grinding down on him all the while. Barry couldn't really help the little whimper coming from the back of his mouth when their lips disconnected for just the fraction of a second for cold to change angle, their breaths mingling hot and wet between saliva slick lips.

The whimper earned him a stronger grind from Cold's hips, followed by mercy on his neck.

Cold shoved him down on the bed by his shoulders, stepping back from the bed just to quickly shuck his pants and briefs. Barry rubbed his neck where it had strained to keep kissing Cold from that position, leering not so subtly at what appeared before him.

"I knew this was a good idea," Cold drawled, and Barry's eyes shot up to his smirking face, his cheeks flushing bright red for staring. He was not supposed to be here _entirely_ voluntarily, but Cold was clearly bringing out the worst in him. "As reward, I'll be a little nicer this time."

Barry swallowed heavily as Cold walked away, worried for a moment until he saw the man was just grabbing a bottle of lube from a desk drawer. Proper lube this time. That definitely counted as 'nicer', considering the terrible annoyance the grease he's used last time had been in the days following.

"Spread 'em wide, Scarlet."

"I could do with you stopping to call me that," Barry grumbled, just for the sake of uttering a complaint while he obeyed the order. Cold ignored his words and scooted back on the bed between Barry's legs, pushing his knees up to improve his access. He also leaned over and Barry was ready to meet him, lips brushing together for a moment until Cold pulled back grinning.

Barry blinked in confusion at the smugness, only to realise then that Cold had just leaned in to grab the pillow above Barry's head, not to kiss him.

He scowled and looked away, face burning as he let his hips be propped up by the pillow.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were enjoying this."

"Good thing you _do_ know better," Barry countered petulantly. "Don't forget I'm only here because you're blackmailing me into it."

"Now now, is that a way to speak of a mutually beneficial business deal?"

Barry's retort was stopped and replaced by a sharp intake of breath when two lubed fingers slipped deep into his arse, pressing in up to the knuckles in one smooth motion.

"Still as tight as before," Cold remarked casually. "I expected more people to make use of this excellent little fuckhole since last time I got it."

Barry glared. Hard.

Cold just cocked one eyebrow and twisted his fingers, spreading them against the pressure of Barry's sphincter. "Don't give me that look, Scarlet. Leaving this arse unfucked would be a crime against humanity."

"Keep talking and I'll make sure you commit that crime tonight."

The way Cold laughed was just outright mean, but at least he shut up. Instead he focused on what he was doing with his fingers inside of Barry, and it felt better than amazing _and Barry resented that_.

An extra squirt of lube was added and worked into his hole with steady thrusts of long fingers before they popped out. Cold wiped them on Barry's thigh and then used the same hand to lube up his cock, leaving the lube abandoned on the edge of the bed as he crawled up to the headboard.

Barry's eyes followed him with some confusion until Cold sat back against the headboard, spreading is legs flat on the bed and patting his lap invitingly, smirk practically ear to ear.

"Why don't you show me what those runner legs can do, _Flash_?"

Barry groaned, rolling his eyes and getting up reluctantly. Cold was playing a mean game, making Barry do the work. Had Barry been with a lover, he'd be happy to do _all_ the work, but with Cold? He'd resigned himself to laying back and not do a thing for a good reason. Everything he did was going to be used against him by this asshole; an argument of how he was enjoying himself after all. And his erection bobbing against his thighs as he crawled over was not helping that either.

He made sure to keep scowling as he straddled Cold's lap, scooting forward until his cock trailed over the criminal's pecs suggestively. He was rewarded with a hand gripping his erection for two quick pumps, drawing a reluctant moan from him before he could pull away from the touch and sink down.

His 'partner' wasn't too helpful, holding Barry's hips to keep him stead rather than giving a hand with the aim. Barry was forced to reach below himself and grab that thick cock of his enemy himself, shuddering at the girth in his hand as he lined it up to his barely stretched but well lubed hole.

He breathed in deeply and sunk down.

"F-fuck…" He clenched his eyes shut, breathily cursing at the stretch. It hurt, but it was _good._ He wanted more.

At least he could pretend he was sinking down to take it all because of gravity, not his hunger to be filled.

"That's it, Scarlet," Cold muttered encouragingly, rubbing the globes of his arse cheeks soothingly until they were pressed down on his thighs. "You're taking that so well… like you were made for it."

"S-shut up," Barry whimpered. He didn't want to be told he was 'made for it'. He didn't want to be the local whore to Central City's criminals by general consensus. He didn't ask for this.

"Not a chance." Cold had different ideas.

Barry received a little slap on his arse, making him squawk and jump. Cold was grinning at him when he realised he was just forced to move, so he scowled while slowly lowering back down until he was fully seated again.

"Give me a minute, dammit."

"And here I thought you were in a hurry."

Barry growled in annoyance, but Cold was right. He didn't have all night. He needed to get this done and over with so he could drag Snart and his sister back to S.T.A.R. Labs and save those metahumans in the pipeline before the particle accelerator finished powering up and started.

"If you'd rather take it slow and savour it, I'm all for it though."

Barry decided to ignore that. Instead he shifted his legs until he had the best leverage to start riding the thick cock he was impaled on, breathing in deeply through his nose before starting to raise up.

Cold exhaled sharply when Barry lifted all the way until his length almost slipped out and then dropped back down hard, so at least that was a small win. It also knocked a whimpering moan from his own throat though, and that was a bigger loss.

The biggest loss was how hard he was, even now, and how it felt to have the tip of his cock draw wet lines over Snart's chest while he was filled again and again, each time he bounced up. The thick length was stroking his sensitive insides perfectly, his prostate almost aching at the teasing touches until he found the right angle.

He couldn't help but cry out when that happened.

He received a sharp slap to his arse for his noise, but also a hungry growl from Cold and both the man's hands squeezing his arse cheeks tightly to help him move.

Barry sped up, just for that sensation of Snart's thick cock ramming into his prostate, his breathing picking up and moans slipping from his lips every bounce now. He was leaking steadily on Cold's chest, drops flicking all over the man's scarred skin as his hard cock flopped with the movements.

"Oh yeah, keep going Scarlet, fuck yourself on my cock, just like that."

Barry whimpered, and he felt like he was starring in a porn.

_He'd have to make sure that he wasn't, after this finished. Cold better not be recording this._

"You're so hard from my cock inside you," Snart all but purred. "So wet. You gonna cum just from fucking yourself on my cock, Scarlet?"

The thought made Barry moan louder, even if he didn't mean to. But he did, and he wanted, and he was going to.

_Oh god, he was going to cum from this_ .

Without warning his arse was grabbed tighter, Snart's fingers squeezing bruisingly hard into soft skin, and Cold moved for himself. He thrust up hard, pounding into Barry and tearing screams of pain and pleasure from him until Barry came all over Cold's chest.

He almost blacked out. He almost missed how Cold only thrust a few more times before his hips shuttered to a halt, flooding Barry's insides with his thick seed.

They stayed like that for a long few moments, both breathing harshly and refusing to meet each other's eyes.

Long few moments, until Cold pushed Barry off, pulling away and stepping off the bed on almost stable legs.

"Our deal is sealed, Flash." Cold sounded just a little winded, but confident as ever.

Something in Barry's chest was hurting… no, in his belly. He was feeling nauseous.

He wasn't entirely sure why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, okay, I know! I can't write a proper rape scene between these two because I ship them, okay? Still, this is dubcon at best, heavily bordering on the noncon where it should belong. Sue me.


	12. S2E1 Al 'Atom Smasher' Rothstein

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The silence after the singularity couldn't last forever, and a new foe rises to do the exact thing Barry has been fearing to happen again

"Try me."

"I'm about to."

_And it had been so nice and calm since the singularity._

The guy was too heavy to be blown away by a wind funnel created with Barry's arms. The guy was too massive to be bothered by his punches.

The guy grew even more massive when he retaliated by grabbing Barry by the neck.

Barry knew exactly where this was headed the moment he was grabbed. Rothstein didn't really need to slam him against the wall to make his point, though it gave a short reprieve from Barry's mortification at the size this guy was growing. Because he was clearly growing in his _entirety_ , which did not bode well for Barry at all if he wasn't going to get free real quick.

Rotstein's grin was outright filthy as he pressed harder, cutting Barry's air off entirely. The pressure on his throat became worrying in more ways than just the lack of air quickly, and for a moment he worried Rothstein was planning to shatter his larynx and kill him. Barry may heal fast, but if this guy kept pressing like this Barry would never breathe again.

He kicked his feet against the huge man's thighs, feebly trying to pry his fingers under the massive hand cutting off his air. He could only struggle so much from this position and his strength - far inferior to Rothstein's to start with - was quickly leaving him as his lack of oxygen became more pressing.

_He wasn't really going to kill Barry, was he? Not when he could still use Barry - wasn't that what all these assholes wanted first and foremost?_

Barry broke out in coughing heaves for air when Rothstein's grip suddenly grew lax, almost choking himself all over again on the hand still in place. He could barely lift himself enough by pulling on Rothstein's hand, allowing him to suck in the air he needed behind the pinning grip.

He was dizzy from the lack of oxygen, but he knew why Rothstein stopped choking him without actually dropping him. And the guy had proven his point: Barry was fully expecting to be killed the moment Rothstein lost interest in fucking him up first.

So he cooperated when a large hand tore at his suit - actually went as far as helping his aggressor by pulling the zipper down the front and letting him strip off the lower half of the suit. He didn't feel like getting raped again, but it sure as hell beat getting strangled to death.

A massive finger was shoved up his arse dry, and Barry arched and shouted in pain. _Fuck, he'd been raped with dicks smaller than that finger by now._

He gave a weak struggle because of the pain, but there was little he could do. His feet could not touch the ground and he had to hold himself up by Rothstein's wrist or get choked again. The only thing he could do to make this any less painful was plant his feet on the giant's thighs, which both alleviated the strain on his neck and spread his legs, making the access easier for the rudely penetrating finger.

Barry's legs trembled under him and he was biting his bottom lip hard to keep himself from making any more sounds at the pain, dead set on enduring this for now until he could escape.

It was just another idiot here to rape him before getting to whatever villainy plans he had. Just the usual again.

_Just really fucking big._

He couldn't help it, had to cry out again when the finger was plunged in deep and stirred around like a spoon in a mug. No doubt to stretch him for what was to come, but Barry almost wished Rothstein wouldn't. Just tearing in with his dick straight away would be less disrespectful and humiliating than _this_.

Then again, his dick was likely too blunt and large to actually push in successfully without the preparation. It'd be like trying to break unblemished skin by stabbing it with a finger - it just wouldn't work.

Barry screamed again at the second finger shoving in. His grip on Rothstein's wrist was slipping, his legs shaking so bad it was getting difficult to keep his balance on the man's thighs. He wouldn't hold out for long.

Unfortunately, Rothstein wasn't planning on letting him.

The fingers were yanked out without warning or apology, and Barry found himself lifted higher by the throat until his feet were once more without support, weakly kicking in the air.

Then he was lowered, far enough to feel Rothstein's now free hand shuffle against his arse while the giant's dick was pulled free.

_Upon penetration, Barry flat out fainted from the pain_ .

 

He couldn't have been out for long, because when he came to he was being bounced on a way too large cock by two enormous hands.

Rothstein was panting heavily, head leaning against the wall above Barry - and that alone made Barry dizzy with the sheer size of him. He was most definitely distracted, but his grip on Barry's hips where he held him to slide up up against the wall and pull him down hard on his cock again was like iron, unforgiving and harder than a man should be able to squeeze.

Barry wondered if his hip bones would be broken from that grip. Considering he could feel the pain even over the searing agony in his backside, it wasn't entirely unlikely.

It was a small mercy that he was allowed to breathe, at least. That freedom allowed him to grab at the man's shirt, fingers slipping against the leather until he could grip it and use the leverage to change the angle of his body.

He cried hoarsely when the new angle allowed Rothstein to fuck him deeper, but it was less painful overall so preferable… and by the sound of it, preferable to his assaulter as well. It almost made Barry want to let go again, suffer the pain rather than giving Rothstein a good time.

He would've, if it wasn't already hurting so damn much.

With the man's strength, the only thing Barry could do was wait this one out.

His teeth gritted whenever he wasn't biting his lip until it bled and he felt nauseous, the urge to puke rising like the tides with each thrust in. But Rothstein was speeding up and losing his rhythm, so it had to be over soon.

_Soon_ .

At least Barry had the relief of no audience this time. With Iris having marched into the cortex at S.T.A.R. Labs, he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he'd left the comms on.

Rothstein finally ground to a halt, and Barry felt disgusting. He could feel the hot liquid dripping down his arse from his hole, gathering at the lowest point and itching until the drops gathered enough weight to fall.

_Disgusting. Filthy_ .

_Rothstein would relinquish his tight hold any second now._

They were both startled at the alarms of the warehouse suddenly blaring to life. Rothstein's grip on Barry loosened and he took immediately advantage, pushing up from his cock with leverage from the wall and sprinting away as fast as he could with his suit stuck on his knees.

He had to stop at the exit of the warehouse to pull his suit up, face hot and wet with humiliation, before he could make his escape.

Like all the times before.

It would seem like the calm after the storm was over. New trouble was brewing in Central City.


	13. S2E3 Lewis Snart and Leonard 'Captain Cold' Snart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last time Barry worked together with Snart, he had to 'prove' his loyalty. Naturally his father wasn't going to be any different.

Of course Barry was _expecting_ it, this time.

He had walked in on Lewis' little base of operations himself, and he had no illusions about the guy being any better with _this_ than Cold was. Quite the opposite, if what Lisa told them was anywhere near the truth.

Plus, the guy really looked like the sleazy bastard Barry'd been expecting.

"Just enough time for a little _job interview_ before it's time to go." Lewis' grin alone made Barry feel like he needed a shower, but he put on his most clueless smile and followed Cold to a desk strewn with paperwork. Snart pulled the chair behind the desk away without moving to sit on it, but Barry didn't have the time to question him when Cold grabbed him by the nape of the neck and forced him down on his knees between desk and chair.

It dawned on Barry when a smug looking Lewis took his seat, spreading his knees and rolling the chair forward to put Barry between his thighs.

"I don't need to tell you what to do, do I?" Cold's drawl was as bored as ever, but Barry was fairly sure he still detected a hint of discontent in there. Not that he was expecting Cold to be possessive of him or anything, but he doubted he was all happy to watch Barry give his sleazy dirtbag of a father head while Lisa still had a bomb ready to blow her head off. Even if he _hoped_ , just a little bit, that Cold was jealous.

_This was a mess_ .

Barry inhaled deeply through his nose, closing his eyes for a moment to keep his calm, and set to work.

Lewis laughed at his face, so Barry ignored him. Just undid the man's jeans and tugged them down less gently than he probably should, fishing the man's flaccid cock from his underwear.

He tried his hardest not to wrinkle his nose in disgust while leaning over and gingerly taking it in his mouth.

Lewis was not a great fan of hygiene, it seemed. He _reeked_ and his dick felt like a dry slug on Barry's tongue. He'd much rather be doing this 'interview' with Cold, right about now. Not that it'd be any more consensual than their last romp, but at least Len kept clean. And was a handsome guy.

Anything better than this, basically.

"Not very convincing yet, kid."

Barry grimaced as fingers wove through his hair, pressing him closer to the man's crotch. The smell of old urine and sweat was almost making him gag in itself, and that was without adding the fact that he was licking and sucking some criminal's dick to hardness. _Some criminal who put a bomb in his own daughter._

But he had to play his part, no matter how much he didn't want to. He had to pretend to want in on this job.

So he tried a little harder, licking and suckling and forcing down his gag reflex way sooner than should be necessary. It worked in so far that Lewis seemed fairly easily pleased, growing hard under Barry's ministrations and starting to pet his head like he had a dog in front of him rather than a person.

Lewis sighed with a content little sound. "Yeah, that's it. Suck it, just like that, kid. You're good at this - you like this, don't you?"

Barry wanted to deny that and already lifted his eyes enough to glower at the man from under his lashes, but a small shove from Cold's foot warned him off from protesting.

With a nauseous stir in his stomach he managed an affirmative sound instead, focusing on the erection he had to work again.

_The only upside from sucking this guy off was that he had no stamina._

Barry was working on him for maybe a few minutes before he was slumping lower and lower, fingers clenching tighter in Barry's hair and pressing him down deeper. Barry had to squeeze his eyes shut to not retch but he managed to relax his throat enough to let the man fuck his face with rough little thrusts.

His gagging was ignored as Lewis sought out his release. Barry just hoped it wouldn't take long, barely getting time to breathe anymore, face red and tear stained from the pressure alone. Saliva started to drip down his chin and Barry was grateful nobody had to see this. Aside from Len, but he hated Lewis already anyway.

When he was sufficiently messy, Lewis finally stopped, pulling out of Barry's mouth and quickly stroking himself a couple of times until he released on Barry's face.

Barry cringed away, trying to hold as still as possible while Lewis milked out his cock over his face, adding his see to the tears and saliva already there. Barry was shaking slightly, but he wasn't sure if it was in anger or embarrassment. Probably a nice cocktail of both.

Lewis slumped with a sated groan, releasing Barry's hair and waving weakly at Cold. "Give my son a nice one too and we're on our way."

Barry dropped his head to scowl, hiding his face from the two Snarts for a moment. This had to be punishment for wishing it was Len instead of Lewis; having to do them both while wanting neither.

To his surprise, Cold was not jumping to urge him on or force him, instead remaining silent while Barry took a moment to calm his breathing. Barry had expecting to be pulled around already, but he was given time… _it occurred to him now that this time, Cold didn't ask for this either. This time, neither of them actually wanted this._

Barry almost took a sick satisfaction in that idea - he was forced, but at least this bastard that raped him twice now was getting one back too, nevermind that Barry sort of enjoyed it last time - and he finally turned on his knees to face Cold instead.

Len was leaning against the desk right behind him, arms crossed over his chest while looking down at Barry with a look Barry couldn't decipher. Not even a smirk at the mess of Barry's face. Must not be happy he was getting his father's sloppy seconds - no doubt Lewis' intended message here.

Barry reached up and undid Cold's jeans, tugging them down a little less reluctant than he had Lewis'. He pulled Cold's underwear down as well rather than fishing him out, making sure to expose him as much as he could - which was his pants high on his thighs, as he was still leaning against the desk.

Len simply cocked an eyebrow at his choice, but his expression remained… deceptively blank.

He wasn't hard.

Barry should not be feeling insulted at that, after the show he put up just now. Not even a little. _What creep would get hard watching his abusive father get sucked off, after all?_

He steeled himself before setting to work once more, grimacing at the disgusting feeling of drying semen cracking on his face when he opened his mouth. Cold's hand on the back of his head could almost be mistaken for gentle as he was pulled in closer, and it was such a relief to be reacquainted with intimate hygiene again.

Barry would deny being happy, but he certainly was a lot more invested in this task than the one before.

Neither Snart made a comment as he moved so much more eagerly, sucking Cold's hardening cock into his mouth and deeper, bobbing his head a while before alternating with teasing his tongue at the edge of the head and the slit.

He felt Cold's knees buckle slightly where he was pressed against him, and couldn't help but feel a little proud of himself. Cold always seemed to be fully in control, so every bit of weakness was a victory.

It was not a victory that he lasted a lot longer than his father, despite Barry's efforts. His jaw was aching something terrible by the time Cold's hand in his hair tightened, and he followed his father's example of fucking Barry's mouth before peaking.

He too, pulled out to spill over Barry's face, and Barry had to close his eyes against the thick globs of semen running down his face. His nose twitched against the wet slide of it, hot and itchy where Lewis' seed had dried already.

He heard Cold tuck himself back into his pants, unable to see when opening his eyes meant getting them full of semen, and he remained kneeling on the floor while trying to school his look of disgust back into something passive.

"Pretty good kid you found there, son." Lewis was laughing that filthy laugh, and Barry was mentally trying to scrub himself clean from it already. He was going to need more than that shower he'd planned after seeing Lewis first. He was going to need a thorough inside-out cleaning after this.

"I know," Cold drawled, as if this was his plan all along.

Barry knew better. Barry knew Cold hadn't planned this, nor wanted this.

A small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

"Go clean up your face so we can get going."

Barry heard Lewis get up and move away, and he sat up straighter, suddenly feeling lost. He could not open his eyes, had no idea where he was, and he was going to be left with a face covered in semen to find a way to clean himself-?

Before he could protest - he didn't _want_ to protest, because opening his mouth would also mean semen in it - he was grabbed by the nape of his neck again. He froze under Cold's hand, only to be surprised by the man once more.

Again, he could mistake the hands for gentle, if he didn't know better. But Len wiped his face clean meticulously, almost like a mother cleaning the face of her messy toddler, and when Barry finally dared to blink his eyes open he saw it had been with tissues.

Of all the things to have around while planning your heists…

"Get up," Len told him, voice low. "I hope you weren't lying about the Draycon locks."

_Yeah… yeah he was._


	14. S2E6 Zoom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoom makes sure to show the whole city how little their hero is worth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was this particular episode that convinced me this story needed to be written, but boy, I had not realised back then that I'd be writing 13 chapters before getting here.

Iris couldn't have been more shocked at the flash of movement into the office, papers scattering and fluttering to the floor in the wake of the speedster.

Speedster _s_.

_Two of them, and Barry was not standing._

She gasped, turning and standing, entirely too shocked by the sight on the conference table. The black speedster pulled Barry off the table again by his neck, and he flopped to the floor like a boneless doll, head lolling to the side to show his face caked with blood under the mask.

"Barry," she breathed, fear and panic clawing at her stomach. _Barry-_

"Look at your hero."

The low voice of the black speedster sent a painful chill of fear down Iris' spine, but her colleagues around her were less personally impressed. Camera shutters clicked around her, beeping noises from machines being turned on to record.

Half the office of Picture News was present and recording the Flash dangling on the stranger's hand like a kitten caught by the scruff of the neck, helpless.

"This man is no god." Iris covered her mouth with her hands, as if the physical barrier of her hands could keep her from screaming as the black speedster - _Zoom, this had to be Zoom_ \- lifted Barry in the air. "He is _nothing_."

Right in front of their eyes - _their cameras_ \- Zoom tore the pants of the Flash suit, ripping them open down the middle seam as if to preserve the suit as much as possible. As if the Flash was to remain dressed, but accessible. _Just to make sure he would remain the Flash, Central City's hero, and not just any man in a villain's grasp._

Zoom used his speed for the next part, so all Iris saw was Barry hanging in the air one moment, arse exposed, and bent in half in front of Zoom's crotch the next. Zoom was holding him only by the hips now, Barry's whole body unresponsive and limp and rocking like a ragdoll with every thrust of Zoom's hips.

_Oh god, she couldn't be seeing this. She couldn't be seeing Barry get raped in front of her again._

Zoom didn't continue for very long. He was clearly only here to put on a show, to make sure everyone saw him raping their hero in front of them. It was maybe a dozen thrusts into the limp body he was holding before he changed his grip once more to Barry's neck.

The next moment they were gone, leaving Picture News with all the photos and videos of Iris' greatest nightmare.

 

Joe was not expecting the Flash in the precinct, especially not with the flair to make sure everyone noticed him entering and flying up the stairs.

He knew something was wrong before he managed to back up and look at the balcony above them. He was pulling his gun like his colleagues as dread made its way up his throat like bile.

Zoom lifted Barry by the scruff of his neck like a limp doll, and that alone was enough to make Joe nearly piss himself in fear - fear for Barry, _his Barry_ _hurt and in the hands of that monster._

"The days of the Flash protecting this city are over."

More of his colleagues joined him and Joe barked out a warning in his panic. "Hold your fire!" _They couldn't shoot Barry in this state - or at all, if it was up to him_.

"Put him down!" Patty sounded almost as bad as Joe. Almost.

"Now, what will you do without your precious hero?" Zoom shook the limp body he was holding out and Barry's head lolled like there were no bones in his body. Joe wasn't even entirely sure Barry was conscious, and he almost prayed that he wasn't, that he'd be spared experiencing this.

Zoom lowered the body of the Flash and Singh's order came immediately. "Shoot that thing now!"

_They did_ .

All bullets they had, everyone standing there, all shooting at zoom to save their life, to save Barry-

It wouldn't matter. Joe should've known that.

Still, his eyes widened when the shooting stopped and Zoom stood there calmly, one arm extended in front of him, hand closed. Slowly, too slowly, he opened and turned his hand, letting all the bullets shot at him rattle to the ground.

"Nice try."

The voice made Joe feel physically sick, but not as much as the way Barry's limp body was manhandled and hung over the railing like a wet piece of laundry. Not as much as the feeling of pure horror when suddenly Zoom was thrusting his hips, like he was fucking Barry's unresponsive body right there in front of him.

"My god," someone muttered behind him, making it a sudden and painful reality.

_Zoom was raping Barry in front of everyone present at the precinct, just to show off his power_ .

It lasted only seconds before he stopped and disappeared in a flash, but Joe had to stumble out to empty his stomach.

 

They were frantically searching for where Zoom was taking Barry, so the last place they were expecting was for them to show up right in front of them in the cortex.

Caitlin was the first to stand up, her cry of Barry's name pure panic, fear for Barry's life. They had watched his _spine_ get broken and pumped full of the mix to dampen his abilities. Barry was barely alive and Cisco had trouble breathing, shaking when he quickly stood to scramble forward.

But Zoom wasn't here for Cisco or Caitlin.

"Harrison Wells. You thought you could defeat me with this?"

Cisco couldn't even process how afraid that voice alone made him, sickly low and somehow wet, like the blood on Barry's face where he was held behind Zoom. Like a too large doll getting dragged around over the floor behind a careless child.

Zoom peeled the mask of Barry's face slowly, as if to make his point. As if Barry's face would show how ridiculous it was that Harry came here and thought the Flash could stop Zoom.

Cisco didn't think Barry's face was making the point, but the blood and the defeated look sure did.

Harry seemed to agree.

"I made a mistake."

"Yes, a costly one."

Cisco watched as Zoom lifted Barry by the throat, the young man - _their hero_ \- barely clinging to consciousness. He shouldn't have been conscious after all that, and Cisco really wished he weren't when Zoom drove one clawed finger into Barry's abdomen like a knife.

The pained groan from Barry's throat made Cisco feel like crying.

"Goodbye, Flash." Zoom pulled his finger out and lowered Barry again, slowly. Just as slowly, he moved the limp, groaning body to be in front of his crotch, making Cisco acutely aware of the way the Flash suit was ripped. "You too, weren't fast enough."

And then Zoom was raping Barry in front of them, and Cisco couldn't watch. _He couldn't stand there and watch Zoom rape his friend in front of them, showing off how much greater he was than the Flash_.

So he did the only other thing he could do right now.

He reached for the gun that held the darts to dampen Zoom's power, moving behind Caitlin to remain obscured - not that Zoom was looking at them. The guy's focus was on Barry and Harry, here to humiliate the two of them.

He was doing a good job at it, too, but Cisco would make him pay.

Zoom was too wrapped up in thrusting into the limp body of their friend to notice Cisco aim the gun and shoot. He only noticed when it was too late, the dart in place.

_Zoom screamed,_ _and it was a much more fulfilling noise than his disgusting voice_.

Barry was dropped to the floor, forgotten as Zoom pulled out the dart and then fell himself. They were almost ready to close in on him when Zoom seemed to tap into the last bit of his powers to flee.

Harry went after Zoom to scream at him, but Caitlin rushed across the cortex for Barry. Cisco knew he had no time to pull himself together, but he still needed a deep breath before coming into motion.

_For once, he saved his friend from that eternal humiliation. Just this once._


	15. S2E9 Mark 'Weather Wizard' Mardon and James 'Trickster' Jesse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark Mardon and James Jesse are always ready to play games

There was really absolutely nothing Barry could do.

He had no way of finding all those bombs, let alone getting rid of them fast enough to keep anyone from harm. And the first ones in harm's way would be young children and their parents, which made everything even worse and definitely more unethical of these two bastards in front of him.

Not that the James Jesse and Mark Mardon were very high on the list of 'ethical criminals' in the first place.

Barry couldn't have been more reluctant about handing Mardon the wand. He knew what was in store for him now, and how it would end. After the humiliation Zoom put him through, Mardon and Jesse couldn't stay behind, after all. They had to play their little pissing match and show how they could not only publicly hurt the Flash, but kill him as well.

Barry doubted they would've planned this out here in the open if it hadn't been for Zoom's show.

The wind was knocked out of him almost immediately after relinquishing the wand, the large ball of ice impacting with his chest hard enough to send him flying.

After all that happened before, he should know better than climbing back to his feet.

He knew pride would only make it worse.

But it wasn't pride. He'd lost that some ways ago already. What he still had was stubbornness and a fierce determination to show the people watching that he was not broken by what happened with Zoom, and he wasn't going to lay there and be broken by Mardon either. He would do it for them, no matter if it hurt worse.

So he climbed to his feet every time Mardon shot ice at him, shakier every time. And he knew he was screwed when the criminal grinned almost as crazy as Jesse was.

It took all of his power not to struggle or flee when he was launched in the air by wind and struck by lightning. He wanted nothing but somehow catch himself and not wait for a painful landing, but he _couldn't_ with the bombs out there so he _didn't_.

He grunted in pain as he tried to ease his fall by rolling over the asphalt, even if the impact was hard enough to break bones and the friction almost enough to give him a burn even through the suit.

So far so good, but now he was on the street and in direct view of a bunch of policemen holding back scared and curious onlookers. He could not pick himself up and move back into the square where the Christmas decoration would hide him from view in time, Mardon and Jesse already gleefully approaching before he had so much as propped himself up.

He was kicked down before he could get up any further, Mardon looming over him with a hungry look on his face.

"Now that we found our audience, how about I have a taste of the Flash's speciality? I have on multiple accounts that you love getting your arse fucked by criminals."

"I'm… really more into consent, actually." Barry rolled over to push himself up on his elbows once more, trying to get his knees under him before Mardon would kick him again.

Surprisingly, Mardon allowed him to come that far. Unsurprisingly, Mardon proceeded to step on one of his wrists to keep him from actually coming upright while bending over to force Barry's pants down.

"Consent is only cute on girls."

Barry scoffed in disbelief. "That makes absolutely no sense."

Mardon didn't answer again, and Barry resisted the urge to curse under his breath. As long as he kept him talking he might be spared from getting raped here out on the street with far too many people watching. People had already seen far too much when Zoom had it filmed by the press.

"Be a good boy and hold yourself open," Mardon instructed, and Barry wanted to gag. There was little freedom to disobey, but there was a limit to how far he was going to facilitate this. Especially with the audience.

But the audience was what Mardon was doing it for, so when the criminal finished opening his own pants he shoved a foot against Barry's bare thigh.

"Come on Flash, don't make me wait. Or should we explode a few bombs to make you cooperate?"

Barry hesitated, torn between both bad options, before finally grunting unhappily and reaching behind him to grab his ass cheeks. At least Mardon had come prepared and started with squirting a generous dose of something cold down his crack, pushing it inton Barry's hole carelessly with a thumb.

"You should thank me for that," Mardon remarked.

"You just don't want the friction burn of going in dry," Barry sniped back.

Mardon huffed a laugh, and Barry got the rough sole of his shoe shoved against his bare thigh once more. "So you _are_ good at this, huh? Knew they were telling the truth with how much of a twink you are."

Barry bit his lip to keep quiet, just dropping his head so he would not have to see the smug look on Mardon's face from the corner of his eye. He could put his concentration into staying upright and not being shoved face first into the asphalt and maybe this wouldn't take too long-

The mere thought about it was interrupted when Mardon dropped to one knee behind him, shoving him forward with the intent to lift his hips up higher, but also resulting in Barry crashing face first onto the road. He yelped in pain, just barely holding on to his arse rather than trying to catch his fall before or relieving the pressure now. Mardon would have at him if he released now.

"Good boy," Mardon sneered, and Barry felt the touch against his hole. His stomach roiled like it always would at this point, but he took a deep breath to relax his muscles. He knew it would hurt less if he did - and it was going to hurt terribly anyway.

Mardon pressed inside with little to no mercy, making Barry grind his teeth and twitch helplessly in his need to get away from the pain. But there was no patience in the Weather Wizard, no kindness to wait for him adapting. Mardon bottomed out with force and only paused there to make a pleased, somewhat strained noise.

"Didn't expected a whore like you to be so tight. Hey, Jesse!" Barry shuddered as he felt Mardon move to address the other criminal present. "If you want his mouth, help yourself."

"I'll pass, he might-" an insane little giggle broke his sentence "- _bite_."

"Only if he forgets we got bombs planted with all those children." Mardon gave a sharp little slap to Barry's arse, making him yelp and jump in surprise. His slid forward and he groaned in pain at the burn of the asphalt scraping his face.

His hands were shaking to hold himself open and his grip was slippery from whatever Mardon had used for lubrication, but they did give him a small distraction of what was happening. He could just focus on his hands, and no the searing pain in between when Mardon started to fuck him for real.

The Trickster's feet appeared in front of his face but he was not touched by the other. He seemed to just want a closeup on Mardon fucking his enemy into the street. A closeup Barry was happy the rest of the audience wouldn't be able to get.

"Fuck, so tight." Mardon grunted, then laughed breathlessly and picked up his pace. Barry could lose himself in thought, forget how long this was taking. Forget it was happening at all.

_But it hurt too much to truly forget_ .

Every time he sunk too deep in thought, a particularly rough thrust pulled him back into coherence with vengeance. Every time he only had his speed to thank that he realised he could not let go, turn around and beat Mardon up. It was just a fraction of a second every single time that saved family from having a bomb in their house be blown up.

_Why did it still hurt so much, even after it happened so often now?_

It felt like hours, but it may have been minutes when Mardon made a guttural noise and finished with a few pounding thrusts into Barry's hole. Barry groaned in dismay at being filled, but he managed to keep his trembling hands in place.

"Th-there we go… good talk, Flash." Mardon pulled away and probably stood up to fix himself. Barry had no idea if he could release his cheeks yet, so he stayed down, shaking on the street between the criminals.

"He's all yours now."

The manic laugh was all Barry needed to hear to know what Mardon meant. He got a kick in the stomach that rolled him over, and he was grateful for it because now he could _let go_.

He was less grateful to the Trickster crouching next to him with a large knife in his hand.

"Barry, the bombs are gone!"

Barry blinked.

_They got the bombs._

Electricity crackled and Barry saw the Trickster's face fall right before he was up on his feet and dealing with both his assaulters.

At least Cisco saved him before he got killed, so he couldn't complain… not anymore.


	16. S2E10 Russell 'Turtle' Glosson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Turtle actually gets some planning in to use Barry as he likes

Even if the sensation wasn't new anymore, Barry kept being surprised by the sheer amount of power on each wave of inertia coming from the Turtle.

Barry had been determined to not be caught off guard again. Unlike everyone around him he could still move, he could still watch the man smugly strolling about and stealing what he came for, and Barry would use that ability to _stop_ him.

Barr was the fastest man alive and he would stop the man who slowed everything to a crawl.

He had to.

It was his only hope against Zoom.

Or so were his plans, at least, until the sharp stab of realisation that Patty was going to be crushed by a chandelier. He was barely strong enough to resist the Turtle's inertia as it was, and there was no way he could both stop the Turtle from walking out of the museum at his own leisure _and_ save Patty - Patty, who _he_ had brought here while full knowing he was expecting trouble.

He put Patty in danger.

So he put all his effort in reaching her, managing short bursts of speed at the end of each wave of inertia, but the Turtle kept hurling more of it at him and Barry wasn't strong enough to oppose it with more than the movement of his eyes until the initial peak was past. He barely managed to shove her out of danger in time, getting caught under the chandelier himself instead.

And of course, _of course_ , the Turtle wasn't going to leave it at that.

"I knew you would come again." The Turtle crouched in front of Barry, drawing an odd metal object with leather straps from his pocket. "Last time I noticed your lips… you have very nice lips. I prepared for you, this time."

Barry wanted to struggle out from under the chandelier, he wanted to hit the Turtle or at least know him out. He wanted to do many things, but the Turtle kept releasing wave after wave of whatever this power of his was, slowing Barry to a crawl - less than a crawl. Every time he so much as twitched, he got a new blast of the Turtle's power.

And the object, well, that shape made a lot more sense when it was wedged into his mouth, the straps pulled behind his head to force his mouth open around the ring gag. The Turtle was in absolutely no hurry to fasten the straps, and Barry could already feel his mouth going dry from being forced wide open, as well as the upcoming anxiety for what was to come.

There was really only one thing the guy could be planning to do with this.

_And he was so sick of this by now._

"There, even prettier like this." The Turtle pushed down on Barry's tongue with a thumb, smiling that slightly deranged smile of his before pulling back and starting to work his fly open. "I will do this nice and slow, so I can enjoy that pretty mouth of yours. And no need to worry, everybody is so slow… they can't even see what I'm doing with you."

Honestly, Barry would be gritting his teeth in frustration at just the slow way this guy was talking if he didn't have his mouth spread around a gag.

The Turtle dragged him up by the shoulders, moving him like he weighed nothing while paralysed under his inertia. He was neatly arranged on his knees, as if he was made to be a pretty picture, and then a half hard cock was fed into his open mouth.

Barry wanted to gag, but he couldn't move.

"Oh…" The Turtle sighed, a pleasured sound that made Barry's skin crawl. "You have a very warm mouth, Flash. I like it a lot."

And Barry _hated_ it, but he was gagged with a cock in his mouth so he couldn't say that even if it wasn't for the Turtle's powers.

And god, the man was _slow_.

He made slow measured thrusts and it took forever before he was even fully hard, the weight of his cock heavy on the back of Barry's tongue. He tasted salty and sweaty and disgusting and Barry's reflexes made to gag, but those too were slowed by the Turtle's powers. It was a grim knowledge that he would likely retch first thing after the Turtle was done with him and the effect of his powers waned.

Similarly, his body was not given the option to protest when the Turtle pressed in completely.

Barry's eyes bugged but the Turtle simply bottomed out, pressing sweaty pubes smelling of stale urine against Barry's nose while feeding his cock down Barry's throat. Barry was not able to relax his muscles, was not able to tilt his head and body to make it easier for him to take the girth. It was simply forced down against all resistance and now Barry was certain he'd be vomiting the moment it ended.

But it didn't end - not yet anyway. The Turtle took his sweet time fucking Barry's throat, slow and steady and without any mercy. Barry was happy he was at least allowed to breathe after every thrust, but it was a meagre consolation. Especially when the Turtle grew close to his release and fucked his throat a little harder, a little rougher, until he finally just pressed in and stayed there, groaning like an animal.

Barry felt the man's seed slide down his throat with utter disgust, but worse was how his breathing was being cut off now. And the Turtle _remained_ slow, standing like that for what felt like hours until Barry was certain his face had gone from red to purple and his lungs were screaming for air. Only when he was starting to worry he might actually pass out, the Turtle finally pulled back and let him wheeze, and even that was limited with the forced inertia.

The Turtle calmly tucked his cock back into his pants and wiped his hands on Barry's suit before picking the art he was stealing up.

"It was a pleasure, Flash. I will see you again soon."

 

As soon as the Turtle was out, Barry doubled over and emptied the contents of his stomach over the floor. Caitlin was already rushing over to him when he lifted shaking hands to undo the straps of the gag behind his head, and he was dizzy and _sick_ and the pain of getting caught under a falling chandelier finally caught up with him as well.

At least nobody got to witness his humiliation this time.

But with how often that happened, that wasn't much of a win anymore either.


End file.
